“I’m going to do the same thing my parents did, dreamwalk myself into the other world to escape the enemy.”
The prophet briefly dropped all illusions of madness and placed a steady hand on Amy’s shoulder whilst looking deep and sorrowfully into her eyes.
“Yes, Amriel. You are. But it is the most dangerous option available to you. When you walk down this road, you will leave behind the protective shield your parents created for you. It will mean you are destined to throw down Gorhoth or to join with him. The choice of simple escape will be gone forever. Are you truly ready to bring that doom upon yourself? This is a terrible choice, though perhaps you did not know it.”
“Dangerous or not,” replied Amy firmly, “I’ll do it if it means others don’t need to die.”
“Very well. Then I shall open the way for you and you shall pass across with your friends. But you have been warned.”
Amy was overjoyed. She took no real heed of the prophet’s dark warnings. In the face of her present danger they were not so concerning. She thanked the prophet many times over and in response he started rolling his eyes at her. Disturbingly, his eye rolling was not like a normal person’s. His eyes quite literally spun around at great speed in their sockets until Amy was so put off that she did stop thanking him.
“Why do you act so crazy when you’re actually not?”
The prophet grinned at her in an almost frightening way.
“Oh ho! Crazy hmm? Yes, quite crazy! Hahaha! Maybe if you live alone for millennia you will start to act crazy too! Much crazier than old Inaril. Maybe you will ACTUALLY go crazy? Then again, if you have done that, maybe you will deserve to be crazy! Oh yes!”
He returned to his serious manner again.
“No further jests. Think on my warning Amriel. For there are far darker moments ahead of you than those you are leaving behind. Fetch your friends. You must hurry now.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Amy’s parents were driving as fast as they dared along the road from Revelstoke towards Lake Louise. Amy’s mother murmured in her sleep. “Fallen tree on the road. Soon. Nearly there.”
Her father Laszlo slowed a little. If there was a fallen tree coming up it wouldn’t do to crash into it. His heart pounded with fear and anger, as any father’s would when their daughter is in grave danger. Would they make it in time?
✽ ✽ ✽
The prophet sat himself gingerly on the grass and looked like he had started meditating while Amy went to call her friends back. It didn’t take long to find them talking together.
Snipping jumped to his feet. Martay was slower because of his injury, still plaguing him in his dreams.
“We can escape now if we hurry. The prophet is going to open some kind of path to get to the other world.”
Martay looked dazed as if the words held little meaning for him. Snipping’s expectant look faded to a look of fearful apprehension but he said nothing. He knew better than to interfere with fate. He followed Amy, supporting Martay along the way back to the place where the prophet was seated.
The prophet completely ignored their return, remaining motionless on the ground. Nothing physically changed around them but they felt the wind change direction. It was barely perceptible but it was there. All sound was silenced. Then they started to hear an odd rushing sound, like a heavy wind blowing through a tunnel, but they couldn’t feel it. Amy had been looking so expectantly for some kind of swirling, colourful portal to appear like it did in movies and games that she didn’t notice the actual change. In front of the prophet the trees had been rearranged so that they formed something like a hallway. Where they were all standing the forest was full of light but a strange shadow hung between the trees, standing like living pillars. None of the companions could see far ahead. It was as if the hallway of trees marched on into infinity and they could only see a hole from which light could not return.
The prophet got to his feet. He looked tired, exhausted even.
“Now, hurry through. This is your choice alone Amriel. The path is ready.”
Amy looked side to side at her friends. Their faces were expressionless or even a little grim. Now that the time had come she felt very nervous. She steeled her will against the rising fear and started to walk down the hallway. Her friends followed only a few steps behind her but they had not gone far when Amy stopped unexpectedly and turned around.
“Will my parents still be safe here?”
“Would you prefer to take them willingly back into the realm of the enemy with you Amriel?”
The prophet clearly already knew the answer to this.
“One last thing then. Do not tell the Arbiters that I opened the way for you.”
“What? But I thought the Arbiters must have been the ones who brought you to me?”
“I have had no dealings with the Arbiters and nor would that be possible. They would not approve of what you are doing and they would certainly stop you.”
“But…”
“The way is closing already Amriel.”
The prophet’s voice suddenly sounded more remote, despite not having gotten any further away.
“Go with luck and hope and do not look back!”
He disappeared. There was nothing left to do but move forward into the darkness. Amy took her friend’s hands and they walked together.
For a few paces they felt like they were actually walking into a void. The darkness almost appeared to have thickness, so that they thought they should be able to feel it washing over them like oil. However, as they progressed, the darkness started to ease again and the forest around them came back into view.
It was not at all the same forest. The trees were strange but much more normal in height. The space between them was tighter and the sense of agelessness was gone. It was plain at a glance that this forest was old. Very old indeed. Martay seemed not to have noticed the change but Amy and Snipping peered around curiously, both wondering whether they had finished passing through to Otthon or not. They knew they were still in the dream plane but for how long would they remain there? It was as if their eyesight was growing slightly blurry, the edge of their vision fading away. Martay stumbled beside them as if he had suddenly grown weary, then the dream blinked out of existence.
✽ ✽ ✽
Amy’s parents burst through the door of the little ranger’s office to find two policemen rubbing their eyes lazily. They looked up slowly at the sound of the door bursting open but were otherwise unperturbed.
“Can we help you folks?”
“Where is my daughter?”
Laszlo managed not to yell but it was a near thing. It was also immediately apparent that these men were no longer under any control but their own. Not that that boded well.
“No idea sir, if she’s lost we’re going to need a bit more information to help you find her.”
Laszlo had no time to mess around and besides, he had already planned for this.
“I was informed that she was caught driving rather recklessly and had been detained here.”
“Nobody detained here sir.”
“Forgive me but I would like to see that with my own eyes. We drove a long way to pick her up.”
“Suit yourself sir but I assure you no girl was brought in here.”
They gestured for Amy’s parents to follow them to the little holding cell in the back of the building.
“See? We haven’t had anyone locked up here in years. Must have got the wrong place. Sorry sir.”
The officer was right. The cell was empty. There was no sign of Amy or her friends anywhere. Laszlo exchanged a hasty, worried look with his wife who was pale and blank faced.
“It cannot be…” was all she managed to say.
She continued in elvish, “Come Laszlo, she is not here. I fear… I fear she has returned to Otthon.”
They left, followed by the eyes of the confused officers who shifted uncomfortably in their chairs as they watched the couple walk back to their car. It was funny… they had just dre
amt about detaining a girl in the cell… They didn’t dare say a word to one another about it. Neither knew that the other had had the same dream.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Remind me again, Fasal, how and why we allowed the humans to get to this point? We could have done something to avoid this, surely.”
It had been an unpleasant afternoon for King Silas sitting in his foreign minister’s office, listening to the increasingly disturbing reports. They had revealed not only that the human lords had been squabbling like noisy, neighboring couples, but they were also seriously at risk of metaphorically setting the neighborhood on fire. The internal bickering was a serious threat to Silas’s own Kingdom.
“Perhaps, your highness, but I feel compelled to point out that they are a sovereign state. Interference would have potentially made the situation worse, if we were caught that is. Besides, as I indicated earlier, there is no certainty we would have succeeded.”
“Ah, yes! I wanted to ask you about that. We truly have no idea who is ultimately behind all the trouble?”
“It is a worrying failure, your highness. Disruption on this scale should take a modestly sized network of antagonists. The more there are, the easier they should be to find. Yet we have had no luck. We are still unsure what to make of it. Suffice it to say, this failure is the greatest of our concerns.”
The King sighed heavily and shook his head. It genuinely saddened him to think the region might be heading for conflict again. There was nothing to be gained from it that couldn’t be achieved by more peaceful means.
“Very well Fasal, run me through the political dynamics again.”
“In summary? As is the case with the majority of political conflicts, there are three main bodies. There are two key blocks contending with one another and a third block which is undecided as to who they should support, or wish to remain neutral. It seems the key, initial fallout was between the Duke and lord Samuka, who I believe you know.”
The King nodded in acknowledgment. Samuka was lord of the human province that bordered his own Kingdom and, in Silas’s opinion, a good man.
“Samuka has since disappeared. We are working on leads for that but it is another matter. Since his disappearance there has been polarization towards those who support the Duke’s condemnation of Samuka and those who oppose the Duke’s actions. Whilst there are exceptions in certain provinces, the split is roughly as follows. The south and east are rallying behind Lord Kestel of Oszterhaz and the north and west are loyal to the Duke. Neutral provinces are scattered throughout the entire Kingdom.”
“Let me guess,” began Silas, “has the Duke been in contact with our embassy, trying to convince us to support him personally while he seeks to restore order?”
“Yes, indeed your Majesty.”
“Thus pincering the provinces that disagree with his position. The man is a sensible fighter and a terrible politician.”
“It is quite rare for a man to excel at both in my experience, your Majesty. Regardless, we have responded informing the Duke that because of the raids on our borders we cannot spare assistance, even if we wished to.”
Silas nodded. He approved of the response.
“So then, what is it you actually recommend doing Fasal?”
“I would advise that we have our armed forces stand ready. It is my expert opinion that the situation is going to become… messy.”
“And we really have no idea who is behind this pointless chaos?”
“I’m afraid not. We are working on it.”
“Work harder Fasal. Nonetheless, I will attend to the defensive preparations.”
Silas sighed and got up to leave.
“I prefer an assassination to war, Fasal. Why slaughter a flock of innocent sheep if you can simply kill the wolf in sheep’s clothing? Get me names before this gets out of control.”
Fasal nodded. His face had somehow lost its usual, cool demeanor. As the King approached the door he called out to him.
“Silas,” he dispensed with formal titles, “between friends, not officials, I am thinking of taking a… holiday. If I do not return within a month, let my wife know, will you?”
Silas looked back at his old friend. It had been decades since Fasal had performed any field work himself. Those days should have been long behind him. This was a very telling action.
Both of them raised two fingers to their lips and gave each other a short bow. It was a salute of deepest respect in their culture.
“Be safe old friend. Neither of us is under one hundred anymore,” Silas said solemnly.
Then he departed to see the defence minister.
Back in his office, Fasal walked to the book shelf and carefully pulled on the spine of a volume titled, ‘The Finer Edges of Diplomacy’. The right hand side of the entire bookcase slid silently and effortlessly away from the wall. It did not reveal some kind of outrageous armory. Tucked neatly into a cavity in the wall was a change of clothes, two fine bladed daggers with a green hue to them and a short bow bundled with a full quiver.
As he changed, he quickly spoke allowed the vows of his old military corps.
“Who are we that walk in the Shadows? We are the dark truth.
What is our purpose in the world of night? To be and remove that which makes the night feared.
When do we take a life? When its taking will spare the lives of many more.
Silence, solitude and serenity: we are alone but at peace and we bring peace to those that feel alone.”
Fasal bowed his head and remembered, for a moment, those of his corps who had died in the pursuit of peace during the last great war, and honored their actions. Then he made his way silently out of the palace.
✽ ✽ ✽
Chapter 19
On Otthon Amy, Martay and Snipping were awake. There was no doubt about that. Amy and Snipping were experienced enough to tell the difference but for Martay the fact was announced by excruciating pain in his side. They had become the only people apart from Amy’s parents who had crossed between the two worlds, and immediately they faced a huge problem.
“Snipping? Do you have any idea where we are?”
Amy tried to keep her voice calm. They had woken up in the same position they had gone to sleep, side by side with their backs propped up against something, which turned out to be an old tree with sweeping, drooping leaves like a willow. It was night time and they were primarily surrounded by deep shadows but the moon must have been bright somewhere above them because shafts of pale light were breaking through the gaps in the foliage.
This at least was how Snipping and Martay saw their surroundings.
Amy on the other hand was slowly realising that something was wrong, if wrong was the correct way to think about it. Is it wrong if your eyes seem to be working better than normal, she asked herself? Like the others, she could tell easily that it was night time by the colour of the world around her but she could see clearly for huge distances in front of her until a tree blocked her sight, much further than she could normally have seen in the dark.
Since this wasn’t really a problem she put it out of her mind and returned to the issue at hand.
“I’m sorry miss Amriel but I don’t know. It’s impossible to pick any distinctive landmarks from here in the middle of a forest, especially at night.”
Martay groaned as he tried to pick himself up but collapsed immediately under the strength of the pain. The crossing of the worlds may have solved the problem of entrapment but it had not healed Martay's injury.
Amy’s amazement and intrigue at the new world was immediately replaced by panic as the reality of the situation sunk in.
“We still don’t have anything the help Martay with,” she cried!
Snipping did not lose his head so easily.
“Miss Amriel ya…”
“What was I thinking?” she shouted aloud over the top of Snipping. “Escaping only to end up stuck somewhere else alone and without help!”
“Miss Amriel, yer not…”
> “Martay, I’ll think of something, just hold on,” she was getting hysterical.
Snipping rapidly brought her back to her senses with a sudden slap across the face. She looked at him in shock
“Miss Amriel, are you a dreamwalker or not!?!” his voice echoed off the trees around them. “There’s no one here to stop ya creatin’ anythin’!”
He was right, Amy realised. She had gotten so caught up in the business of escaping that she had completely forgotten why this wouldn’t have worked before. The enemy was gone now. Nothing could stop her creating something to help Martay anymore! Nothing, except…
“Do not move, any of you.”
The voice was clear and lyrical but also very authoritative and daunting. Amy spun around and came face to face with the deadly sharp point of a drawn sword. The figure holding it was completely cloaked in a strange brown-grey material, light leather shoes and a hood which was drawn so far down that even Amy could not clearly make out his features. All she could make out was his crystal blue eyes. Fearful as she was, they still seemed warm to her, warm and wise. The fear inside her had come from her shock but it was abating.
“Who are you and where do you come from,” the man asked sternly. He was speaking English but Amy was surprised to notice that his accent was actually very similar to Martay's.
“My name is Amy and I’m from… I’m not from around here,” she ended lamely. She thought that perhaps it was best not to give away too much information.
“This is Martay and Snipping, my friends, and Martay is badly hurt! Please, can you help us?”
“Strange names you have. Only the name Martay is familiar to me. The men of the west use it often as a shortening of Marattias. Snipping is wholly strange to me. Amy sounds like a name unfinished. What is your full name?”
He completely ignored Amy’s plea for help.
“Amy is just short for Amriel. My last name is Szekeres,” she replied impatiently. “Please, will you not help us? My friend is badly hurt.”
The man’s eyes widened at Amy’s answer. He drew back his hood with his free hand and let it fall around his shoulders. Amy realised at once that she had not been quite right. This was not a man per say. More specifically, he could not possibly be human. His features were refined and delicate, yet they radiated strength. No sign of age could be seen upon him, yet his eyes still gave Amy the feeling that she was looking at someone far older than they appeared. She had only ever seen one other face with such ageless beauty and that was her mother’s. Amy had always admired her mother’s timeless elegance and grace. The same effect in this elf’s face had another profound and confusing effect on her. She didn’t kid herself, it was attraction.
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